Don Turtelli goes to Petticoat Junction
by Erincoffeeaddict
Summary: A story about the adventures of Don Turtelli when he visits a little hotel called the Shady Rest. Rated T for some darker moments.


Don Turtelli was getting tired of the big city life and decided that he deserved a vacation. He got on a train and headed to a small town that he had picked at random. The little town was called 'Hooterville' and it was located in a rural community close to Pixley county. He brought a couple of his goons along too – to keep him company.

After a long ride, the train finally came to rest at a hotel. Turtelli took a quick glance at the surroundings before going inside the hotel to check in. His goons stayed close behind him and kept their eyes open for anyone who might cause trouble for their mafia leader. The Don soon learned that the Shady Rest Hotel was home to a widow named Kate Bradley, her uncle Joe Carson, and three lovely young women…who he assumed were Mrs. Bradley's daughters.

As Don Turtelli was washing up for dinner, he couldn't help but think about the three young ladies. One of them was cute blonde with big, gorgeous eyes and dimples. The second one was a ravishing brunette with sparkling brown eyes. And the third and youngest, was a redhead who wore her hair in braids.

Turtelli decided he was going to tickle them.

At the dinner table, he was pleased to hear that each of the girls had some place to go – like on a date or something. This was good news because with them returning home late at night, it would be easier for him to attack and restrain them without any interference from their mother or uncle.

Most of the time, Don Turtelli would only torture someone if he believed they had some kind of information that he sought after. But the Don truly enjoyed every minute of tickle torment he had ever inflicted so it wasn't uncommon for him to tickle someone just for fun.

So, that night Turtelli put his plan into action. He snuck out of his room, woke his thugs out of their sleep, and they tiptoed downstairs together to stake out until the girls came home.

Turtelli's mouth watered as he imagined what the future would bring…three pairs of silky, beautiful, helpless bare feet at his mercy. He licked his lips with anticipation but continued to wait patiently. He had it all planned out – since he couldn't take them to his penthouse, he would have to do it right there in the hotel lobby. When everything was ready, he was going to send his thugs back upstairs to make sure Mrs. Bradley and Uncle Joe stayed clear.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps on the porch outside. Somebody was about to enter the hotel. Turtelli turned to his goons and snapped his fingers, indicating for them to take position on either side of the door. As soon as the door opened, the goons raised their pistols and bashed the heads of the two unsuspecting persons who entered.

Don Turtelli moved forward to have a look at their unconscious forms, but he was surprised to discover that they were not the Bradley sisters.

His goons had just knocked out two middle-aged men. Turtelli wasn't sure who they were at first, but then he remembered seeing them on the train. These were the guys who ran the Cannonball. Their names were Charley Pratt and Floyd Smoot.

Charley had a fat stomach and his hair was white with dark roots.

Floyd was baldheaded and although he was two years older than Charley, he was naïve and childlike by nature.

"They don't look like girls, boss," said one of the thugs.

"Shut yer trap. I can see that," Turtelli replied.

"Well, what do we do now?" asked the goon.

Turtelli looked down at the unconscious men, then he glanced back at his goons. There was a smirk on his evil face. "I'll tell you what we'll do…We'll tie them up…Wake them up…Then have some laughs!"

With that, Don Turtelli produced a huge white feather and chuckled to himself. He wasn't going to get what he expected, but he wasn't the least bit disappointed. Turtelli enjoyed male feet just as much as female feet, if not more so.

When Charley and Floyd awoke they were each bound to a reclining chair. Their wrists were lashed to the armrests and their ankles were strapped to the elevated foot rests. Their shoes and socks had been removed.

"W-What's going on?!" Charley demanded as he pulled at his restraints. "Let us go! NOW!"

"This doesn't look good, Charley," Floyd lamented.

Turtelli strolled over to their trapped bodies and smiled a cruel smile. "Hello, remember me?"

"What the heck do you want from us?" asked Charley, nervously.

"He looks like one of them mob bosses, Charley! I've seen fellas like him in the movies," said Floyd, trying to helpful.

Charley thought about this possibility and didn't like it. He stared warily at the Don and swallowed hard. "What are you going to do to us?"

Turtelli folded his arms and smirked. "What do you _think_ I'm going to do to you?"

"Don't hurt us," Charley begged. "We haven't done anything and we don't know anything. You have no reason to tie us up like this."

"Oh, but I do have reasons!" Turtelli replied, casually examining his gloved fingers. "You see, I have interrogated a lot of people in my life and I've enjoyed every minute of it. But sometimes it doesn't matter whether my victim actually _knows_ anything or not. Right now I'm on vacation and I have no business to fret with. Therefore, I have all the time in the world to TICKLE YOUR FEET!" With that, Turtelli reached into his jacket and pulled out his huge white feather.

"NO! Please!" Charley begged, terrified. "We can't stand to have our feet tickled!"

"Just stay away from us!" Floyd said, trembling.

"Which one of you wants to go first?" asked Don Turtelli, ignoring their pleas.

"K-Kate will hear us…She's come and save us!" Charley said as he shook with fear.

Turtelli shook his head. "No, my cronies are upstairs guarding all the bedrooms with pistols. Nobody will come to save you. Ever."

Floyd and Charley looked at each other with pure terror in their eyes. They were both excruciatingly ticklish on their feet.

"Alright, we've wasted enough time. If neither one of you volunteers to go first, I'll have to pick one of you myself…" The Don gazed at both pairs of bare feet and tried to make up his mind.

"Please no," Floyd whimpered.

"We're begging you!" Charley blurted out. "Don't do this!"

Don Turtelli ignored them and continued to admire their tender bare feet. It was hard to choose but he finally settled on Floyd.

"OH NO! DON'T!" screamed Floyd as the feather came close to his helpless tootsies.

"Get ready to suffer!" taunted Turtelli with an evil grin. Then he placed the tip of the feather in the center of Floyd's arch and slowly swept it up and down.

"NOT THERE! NOOOOOOOO! HAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Floyd shrieked, throwing back his head and bucking wildly in his seat.

"My my, looks like someone's got a tickle spot," remarked Turtelli as he began making circles on Floyd's soles with the feather. He let the soft tool caress every inch of the conductor's ticklish arches, not leaving a single spot untouched. He tickled both arches for about fifteen minutes. Then he stopped but instead of giving Floyd a break, he immediately started tickling the balls of his feet! He didn't let the man rest for a second.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! HEEEEEHEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE! NO MORE! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NO MORE TICKLING! OOOOHHH PLEEEASE!"

Hearing pleas for mercy was something that Don Turtelli was very used to, but he never paid any attention to them. He was a merciless fiend. But what he didn't know was that this was nothing new to Floyd and Charley. They had been tickled many times in the past and always on their most ticklish spot – their feet.

The Don continued tickling the balls of Floyd's feet for a good long time. Then he dragged the feather along his smooth heels and then up to his wiggling toes. The feather probed the spaces between his toes and brushed along their undersides. Floyd was wailing and screaming with hysterical laughter.

Suddenly, Turtelli stopped tickling and momentarily put down the feather. He grabbed some string and tied Floyd's big toes together. The poor conductor was barely given a full minute to catch his breath before the horrible tickling resumed.

Turtelli stroked the feather all over the heels, arches, and balls of his feet. When he came to the toes, he played 'This Little Piggy' on each one of them. Then he tickled all ten toes with the feather again.

Floyd's entire face and head turned a dark shade of red as he screamed and laughed and begged for mercy. Tears of mirth ran down his cheeks. His sides and ribs began to ache and burn from all the laughter.

After almost an hour, Don Turtelli finally stopped and gave him a break. But the nightmare wasn't over. Now it was Charley's turn.

Turtelli took some more string and tied Charley's big toes together. Then he began playing with the toes and wiggling them between his fingers. "This little piggy went to market…This little piggy stayed home…"

Charley was giggling manically just from having his toes touched. He prayed that Turtelli wouldn't end the game by scribbling his fingers on his deathly ticklish arches.

"This little piggy had roast beef…And this little piggy had none…And this little piggy went…"

"Plehehehease noooo!"

"WEEWEEWEEWEEWEEWEEWEEWEE! All the way home, you pig!" With that, Turtelli grabbed the feather and glided it up and down the soles of Charley's feet.

Charley shrieked and burst into hysterical laughter.

"AAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NOOOOOOOOO! PLEEEEEEEEEASE STOOOOOOOOP! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HOOOOOOHOHOHOHOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO! THAT TICKLES!"

"I'm not stopping anytime soon," The Don replied. "Now enjoy your suffering, you fat bag of shit!"

"OOOOOOOOOOHHH HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! PLEASE STOP TICKLING ME! AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! HEEEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE! YOU'RE KILLING ME!" Charley screamed, tears pouring down his plump cheeks.

"I wish," Turtelli grumbled as he continued to drag the feather slowly along both bare soles, tickling the tender arches mercilessly. After half an hour of that, Turtelli decided it was time to switch spots again. He started focusing on Charley's toes now.

The feather tickled the undersides of his toes as well as between them. Every single toe was tormented to an excruciating extent, from his big toes to his pinky toes. But the most horrible torture of all was when Turtelli tickled his arches. That was beyond unbearable and caused poor Charley to have convulsions and turn crimson in the face.

Still, Don Turtelli was absolutely relentless. He kept on torturing the man's ticklish feet and toes without a single shred of mercy. This went on for almost two hours and the only reason Turtelli stopped was because he didn't want Charley to pass out. At least not yet.

"Well, I certainly enjoyed that!" Turtelli quipped, leering down at the exhausted engineer who was struggling to catch his breath.

"P-Please…d-don't tickle my feet anymore," pleaded Charley in a feeble voice. There were still tears and sweat streaming down his red face. He hung his head and sniffled, feeling completely humiliated and disrespected.

A sadistic grin spread across Turtelli's face. "But I'm not finished yet. Do you know what I'm going to do now? I'm going to leave for a minute but then I'll be back…with baby oil and hairbrushes!"

"MY GOD! NO!" Charley screamed at him, despite not being accustomed to using such language. He was so petrified now that he didn't care what slipped out of his mouth.

Floyd felt like throwing up, he was so scared.

"Just wait till I get back," Turtelli said, darkly. "I'm going to tickle you both until you pee in your pant. And then I'm going to keep on tickling you!"

"Please…please have mercy," Charley whimpered as more tears flooded his vision. "We can't take it anymore."

"Our feet are much too ticklish!" Floyd added.

Don Turtelli chuckled. "Yes. Yes, I know. Anyway, I'll be back in just a sec so don't go away! Hehehe."

True to his word, Turtelli returned only moments later and put all his supplies on a table to arrange them. Soon he was ready and approached the men's helpless feet once again. Then he rolled up his sleeves and poured some warm baby oil onto their feet. He began rubbing and massaging the oil into the delicate flesh of their soles.

Charley and Floyd squirmed and laughed and giggled as their feet were massaged. Turtelli grinned in delight at this. It had been a long time since he had met anyone as ticklish as this. He really didn't think the oils were even necessary since their tootsies were already so outrageously ticklish.

When Turtelli finished applying the oil, he wiped his hand quickly on towel and threw it aside. Then he grabbed two big hairbrushes and walked over to his victims. They continued to beg and plead but there was no changing Don Turtelli's mind.

Screaming laughter filled the hotel only seconds later. The poor men were laughing so hard that they could no longer beg for mercy. They couldn't even breathe. They arched their backs and fought like madmen to escape the nightmarish tickle torture. Their faces turned red as beets as they shed more tears and sweat than seemed humanly possible.

This hell continued until unconsciousness mercifully stepped in. Both Charley and Floyd had finally passed out. It was finished.

Don Turtelli took a step back and dropped the hairbrushes. He turned and started to leave the hotel but stopped suddenly. Then he smiled sadistically as he caught the smell of fresh urine in the room.

The End


End file.
